Page 8

EIGHT

Fiona

I took a long shower. By the time I was done, the scent of my coconut shampoo permeated the small bathroom, carried on steamy fingers to every corner of the cozy space. But more than that, the familiarity of the routine cleared my head. When I stepped out of the shower, squeaky clean from head to toe and freshly shaved in all the areas that counted, I felt like me again.

All that had happened in the last day had shaken my very understanding of the world. The things that went bump in the night? Real.

Monsters? Real.

My very secure belief that I was an average, run-of-the-mill human being with chronic illness and split ends? Well, the split-ends bit was still true. The rest? Not so much.

I stared at myself in the mirror, rolling my shoulders forward and back, considering. Because I couldn’t go out there and open the door to all the possibilities that were Reed until I knew what I wanted.

The draw I felt toward him? Incredible. Alluring. Warm. Exciting. Delicious . Or at least I thought it would be if I followed the urges I felt to stay close to him.

But was that really me ? Did I, Fiona Valentine, very boring resident of Philly who had to see a specialist once a quarter to keep up with my seizure disorder, actually want to be with Reed, the man? Or was it all a magical pull, altering my feelings?

I had no way of knowing. Because the feelings were so innate . None of it felt unnatural or creepy. It was like going on a blind date, laughing all night long, and hoping with everything inside you that he kissed you on the doorstep and did it well. That hope, it was that feeling of more, times ten.

I picked up my toothbrush and squirted out a little dollop of minty toothpaste, scrubbing my teeth as I thought.

The question was, did I want to be open to the otherness of it all? He said I could go home. I wasn’t bound to stay with him, and I believed him. But if I walked out there with anything other than a firm conviction that I wanted to go home, go back to normal, and pretend all of this never happened… I would get sucked in.

It was already happening, and I barely knew the man. He made me feel safe and wanted.

I spit out the toothpaste, rinsing my mouth and sticking my toothbrush into the little cup next to the faucet. The smart thing to do would be to go home. Say, thank you very much for the offer of a week’s stay in Romania, but I needed to get home.

So why hadn’t I done that?

Because maybe, just this once, I wanted to be something more. And even the little bits I’d learned about myself and the world since meeting Reed were incredible.

I was standing on a precipice, a man before me holding out a red pill and a blue pill. I could leave, but then I would never know what I was capable of. What maybe, possibly, was meant for me.

I thought of my history, of my great-grandmother who’d been shut away for even daring to speak about the other she’d experienced, and I opened the bathroom door.

It took less than a minute to throw on comfortable clothes. Perhaps I should have tried a little harder to dress nicely since it was possible that Reed was my forever. But you know what? Forever meant he’d have to get used to the sweats.

I threw open the door with a little too much enthusiasm and smiled when I saw him. He was leaning against the wall directly in front of the door, eyes smoldering with heat and something more.

“I’m ready to talk now.”

He pushed off the wall with a lithe grace that made me shiver, signs of the predator inside peeking through, now that I knew what to look for. It was thrilling.

I stepped back, gesturing him inside. But he shook his head, nodding down the hallway.

“I know a place. This isn’t the kind of conversation you have trapped inside.”

I nodded, slipping the door shut and trailing after him down the hall. Within minutes, he’d led me back outside and to a lovely garden. There were white roses and butterflies, as well as beautiful benches tucked into nooks and crannies along the path. It was a little chilly, but worth the cold to see the beauty.

We reached a side path with a big bower of greenery over a swing at the end of it. He gestured for me to sit, so I did.

He smiled when I patted the spot next to me and slipped into place like he’d been doing it for years, not hours. Our hands were close on the smoothly worn wooden slats, not touching—but almost.

“Do you want me to start at the beginning, or do you have specific questions?” he asked.

“The beginning, I think. That’ll help me know what to ask.”

He nodded, staring out at the garden as he started to talk.

“There are many types of shifters—wolves, bears, felines of all sizes, to name a few—and even more types of magic in the world. Most every legend has some foundation of truth, though some have faded from the world over centuries. The fae, for instance, have largely retreated to their own realm. Dragon legends have died out, and it’s thought that they’ve all either left the human realm or, perhaps less likely, died. Wolves, too, have been declining for several hundred years.”

He glanced at me, and I nodded so he’d know I was paying attention but didn’t want to interrupt.

“Every species has their own lore, their own beliefs. But wolf lore is very specific. We believe the Moon Goddess blessed us, her most devout followers. After all, we’re guided by the moon’s cycles. The full moon makes it nearly impossible for us to resist the change, the urge to run and bask in her glow. But the rest of the month, we live relatively normal lives. Shifting is something we can control. The wolf is part of us, even when we’re in human form, and vice versa. The man is aware of the wolf at all times when shifted.”

“That’s good to know. So you’re not going to turn red eyed and maul me one day by accident?”

“No, never.” He reached up and traced his thumb along my jaw, giving me a soft smile of reassurance. “The legends say that not long after wolves were created, we began to run in packs. And the Moon Goddess, in her infinite wisdom, looked down and saw that for creatures so devoted, we needed an extra gift. A perfect mate, a soul bond like no other, to reward us for our loyalty to our packs. The oldest legends say that she split each soul, placing the other half inside our mates so that we’d always know when we’d found our other half. How could a wolf not recognize his or her own soul?”

“Oh wow,” I murmured. It was a lot to take in, but I wanted to know every single crumb of detail.

“The mate bonds were a blessing, and wolves flourished for a long, long time. The goddess’s gifts to us were many, but that is the greatest of them all. And to answer your question, my wolf could never hurt you. A wolf’s mate is more precious than his own life. I will defend you, and honor you, until my dying day.”

I blinked back unexpected tears at the sincerity in his tone. But I needed to know so much more, I couldn’t start crying right now. “How do you know when someone is your mate?”

“There are signs we’re taught to recognize when we hit our teens usually, but growing up as a wolf, we see it happen over and over. It starts off with a draw, this inexplicable pull to the other person. Mate scent is another early sign. From there, it tends to progress with increased physical contact, but the timeline varies from couple to couple. Some get mate marks really quickly, while others can take months of slowly getting to know each other before a mate scent develops and, eventually, their marks.”

I bit my bottom lip. “That makes sense. Not everyone wants to jump into a serious relationship.”

Like me. I wasn’t ready to jump into something serious in five seconds.

He grinned as if he could read those thoughts. Though he hadn’t mentioned mind reading as a wolfy talent. “Very true. Gael and Leigh, two of my pack mates, were very stubborn about the whole process. It took them months to finally figure it out. They’re both alphas, though, so it’s not really surprising to anyone but them.”

I liked the way he spoke about his pack mates. Like he loved them. There was something about a man who cared about his people that was so attractive. I didn’t want a macho bullshit playboy who called himself an alpha, but this mature, strong, caring man? That was real power. The more he talked, the more I wanted to listen. Just exist in his presence, bask in the glow of him.

Something he’d said sparked another question.

“What are mate marks, exactly? Is it, like, bite marks or something else?” His wolf had very large, very sharp-looking fangs. And I was maybe playing a mental movie with black-and-white Dracula feasting on some poor woman’s neck on repeat in my head.

“Ahh—” He warily rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and I tensed.

“If you have to bite me, just say it. I would always rather know the worst-case scenario,” I blurted.

“It’s not— I don’t— Okay. Let’s back up a little. Mate marks are magic. They appear on your skin like a tattoo, but, for the most part, painlessly. The bite comes later, after a bonding ceremony under the full moon. It’s the wolf version of a wedding, where you’re blessed by the Goddess. The bite is the final step that seals the mate bond and changes your scent permanently. From that point forward, every wolf will know you’re bonded.”

“Wow, okay.” I swallowed hard, choosing not to think too hard about getting bitten and marked forever by those big old fangs. “Thank you for clarifying. But the longer I listen to all this cool magical stuff you’ve got going on, I can’t help but think… I’m not a wolf. What if none of that actually works for me? What if you think I’m your mate because I’ve got a couple of drops of leftover magical weirdness in my bloodline, but then later, you find your real mate?” I threw my hands up in the air, then covered my face.

The idea felt incredibly awful, and I wanted to suck the words back inside my body and rewind time before I said them out loud.

Because as soon as I said them, some part of me rebelled at the idea of letting Reed go with someone else, even a perfectly pure wolf shifter who already knew Wolf 101 and could give him little wolf babies. Puppies? Not the point.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders, gently urging me toward his side. “That’s not going to happen, Fiona. I can’t say how exactly the bond magic works when only one of us is a wolf, but I trust that if the Goddess chose you to be my mate, it will work. I promise.”

I lowered my fingers a fraction and looked up at him. “But how do you know there’s not a real wolf out there somewhere for you?”

He sighed, stroking my hair away from my forehead. “Because I’m three hundred and thirty years old, and I’ve never had this feeling. Not until I met you.”

“Holy shit,” I blurted, then slapped my hands over my mouth for a different reason.

He’s over three hundred years old?!

“I know, I’m an old man by human standards. Well, I guess that’s not true. I’m a dried-up corpse by human standards,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Wolves live over a thousand years, so once we hit about thirty, our aging slows drastically. It’s pretty much imperceptible until we hit around a thousand and things speed back up a little.”

I gaped like a fish, not at all sure how to respond to the news that the hot-as-hell guy sitting next to me who, yeah, did look about thirty, was actually older than my dad .

“Trying really hard right now not to freak out about the fact that you’re older than my grandpa,” I admitted.

He threw his head back and laughed, pulling me into a side hug, and something inside me relaxed. It was so easy with him. So right, even though it should have been scary and difficult.

Anyone who hadn’t seen what I’d seen would think I was insane for even considering any of this.

“I think… I think I’m in,” I whispered, too afraid to admit it louder.

Reed froze, eyes serious when they met mine. “Yeah? You have a whole week to think about it. I am not going to pressure you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Like I said, it’s totally normal for couples to take their time building up the bond, especially in cases like ours where we’ve just met.”

“Right, because the bond builds with physical contact.”

He nodded.

“Does that mean, like, sexy contact, or… does this count?” I gestured to where we sat, sides pressed together, fingers laced.

“It counts, and so does sexual contact.”

“Good to know.”

He dropped a gentle kiss on my hair, and I heard him inhale, like he was sucking in more of my scent, which reminded me of one of the signs he’d listed.

“Since I’m not a wolf, does that make me smell weird to you?”

He shook his head, nose still buried in my hair. “If by weird you mean so phenomenal, it’s unreal, yes. Otherwise, no.”

I chuckled, pulling back so I could see his face. “You’re probably just smelling my shampoo. It’s coconut.”

“No, pretty girl, I don’t think you understand. Your scent is only for me. Yes, I smell the shampoo. But what’s underneath it is so much better.” He leaned down, pressing his nose lightly to the pulse point in my wrist and scenting me again. “It’s apricots, and water lilies, and… something rich. Earthy, yet sweet, like amber.” He groaned low in his throat, and a bolt of heat shot straight to my core.

He was literally sniffing my wrist. Why was that so sexy? It defied logic.

When he looked up, his eyes were glowing. Not red, like in the office. But an ice blue, like a pristine glacier. “You’re my new addiction. Everything about you was made for me.”

I didn’t let myself overthink it or hesitate. I just leaned forward, grabbed his shoulders, and pressed my lips to his.